Becoming Something
by Solapuddle
Summary: Follows the basic plot of The Perks of Being a Wallflower, except centered around Patrick and Charlie's relationship, which will diverge from the original plot. What would have happened if Patrick was the one Charlie fell in love with? A complicated Patrick x Charlie love story from Patrick's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Becoming Something

A "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" Charlie and Patrick fan fiction.

I own nothing (I can't even say that, because I don't own capital N "Nothing"...you know what I mean), except for the delusions that forced me to write this fan fiction so that I could finally think of something other than how much I wanted Charlie and Patrick to fall in love. Although even those delusions probably aren't entirely original. _ Anyways, enjoy, and please leave me comments! This is my first real fan fiction, and I'm happy to listen to and apply any constructive criticism you may have to my story. If there is anything I should change or work on, let me know! For the most part, I'm following the plot of the book and the movie, using parts from both. Of course, things will diverge as far as the romance is concerned. :) And yes, most of this Charlie x Patrick fervor is due to my infatuation with Ezra Miller. My god is he beautiful. Also, I recommend listening to the movie soundtrack and the Smiths Pandora station while writing fan fiction about these guys. It really gets you going. Okay, I'm done now. Here it is.

1. Nothing

It is a cold snowy night, and everyone has left the party at my house except for Brad, and Sam, of course. With a twinkle in her eye, she said that she was going to bed and promptly stood up from the couch we were all sitting at, stretched, and headed up stairs. I saw Brad nervously eying me, so I stood up and started cleaning up the remaining plastic cups and beer cans. When I had run out of things to occupy myself with, I turned towards him. He was frozen in his seat, staring at me with a strange gleam in his eye that I knew too well.

"I'm heading up stairs. Do you want to stay until the snow calms down a bit?" This is an excuse, and we both know it, but I said it smoothly all the same. Brad joined in by looking out the window, which was a sheet of white. In fact, I felt cold just looking at it. Strange, because I always feel like I am ten degrees warmer whenever Brad is around.

He agreed to come upstairs, and then we were in bed, and I had him pinned down, kissing him like my life depended on it. Brad moaned my name into our kiss and I felt an electric wave go down my spine and nestle deep in my stomach. I lead a trail of kisses down his neck, pausing to nip and suck at the sensitive spot in the crook of his neck. I made my way down his bare chest and stomach, thumbing at the elastic band of his boxers. He shuddered, and then we were both naked and clinging to each other fiercely as we rocked in time and he cried out my name and the three words I wish most to hear from him, over and over again.

And he didn't care who could hear us or what they might say about him.

And I knew that everything was different now.

And in that glorious moment, we both orgasmed, him all over his stomach and I deep within him. Then we heard the sirens and knew that his father was coming but we did not care.

"Let him see us", Brad murmured into my ear, "I don't care anymore".

"Patrick."

"Patrick!"

That's strange. He sounded rather exasperated for someone in the raptures of passionate love and sudden self-revelation.

"Patrick, come on! We're going to be late."

Late? Late for what? Time still exists?

I kissed Brad, wrapped in the warm afterglow, when suddenly it started raining, big, fat cold raindrops.

What the fuck?

I bolted up, wide eyed, my bangs dripping cold water onto my face as my alarm clock blared obnoxiously in my ear. Sam stood over me with a pitcher of water, complete with ice cubes. Her lips quirked in to her I-know-I-shouldn't-smile-but-I-can't-help-it grin.

"You told me to do it next time you refused to wake up. Now come on, it's the first day of our senior year. We should at least pretend to be excited." With that she turned around and left to finish getting ready.

I blinked and lifted my sheets to inspect the damage I had done in my sleep. Yep, I would be doing laundry again tonight. Grumbling expletives, I reached over and turned off my alarm clock with a violent slap of my palm. I looked over to see my fan on full blast, explaining the White Christmas wet dream in the middle of August. I sighed, looking back down at my soiled sheets and gathered the strength to get out of bed before Sam returned with the garden hose.

And nothing is different now.

And it probably never would be.

The same routine, another year. I suppose I shouldn't say that. I mean, at least Brad isn't getting stoned and/or wasted every day before school. It makes a person feel real warm and special inside when the person you love has to be trashed just to see your face. However, the unsettling alternative is often found snogging him at his conveniently placed locker across from mine. Her name is Nancy (such a stereotypical name, don't you think?), and she is a Slut-Whore-Hoe-Bag just for existing, and because it makes me feel a little better not to acknowledge that she is actually a sweet, if not particularly bright, girl. We'll stick with Slut-Whore-Hoe-Bag for now.

A week or so in to school, I grabbed my books from my locker across from the usual snog-fest. I slung my back pack over my shoulder and walked toward my next class, trying my best not to notice Brad watching me walk away while Slut-Whore-Hoe-Bag continued to eat his face, pressing her oversized boobs into his chest. I also tried to quell the strange satisfaction I felt from his eyes boring holes into my back. I did not quell the urge to walk with an extra sway to my hips. What is wrong with me? Oh, right. Many, many things.

I paused in front of Mr. Callahan's classroom door and breathed in deeply before entering the classroom with a big smile splayed across my face. Mr. Callahan and I were old friends by now, seeing as this was my fourth year attempting to pass freshman shop class. I guess I just didn't have the wood worker spirit in me. Oh well. That didn't mean I couldn't ensure a good time for the 15 freshman (did I really look that young four years ago?) grouped in their little cliques at each table. Grabbing a grease pen, I drew on Mr. Callahan's distinctive facial hair and started a, I must say, brilliant impersonation of the man himself. One boy in particular, I noticed, sitting apart from all the huddled groups of freshmen, laughed harder than all the rest, including when Mr. Callahan walked in, laughing at my impersonation despite himself.

The boy had shaggy unkempt brown hair, and dark shadows under his eyes that made him look like he rarely got a good night's sleep. If I could make this boy laugh so hard, maybe it wasn't so bad to be repeating shop class for the fourth time. Who knows, maybe at the end of the year I would create something so mind bogglingly fantastic that Mr. Callahan would be left in tears, waving my A+ grade sheet in the air. What can I say? I'm particularly skilled at creating wonderfully pleasant delusions for myself.


	2. Chapter 2 Charlie

Here's the second chapter! Thanks to everyone who followed my story! However, if you are going to follow it, I'd be really grateful if you left a review. It doesn't have to happen every chapter (although that would be really awesome), but a review every once in a while is really inspiring. Okay, enough of that. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Also, don't worry. I promise this is a Charlie x Patrick story, its just going to take some time for these characters to figure that out. :)

Again, I don't own these guys.

2. Charlie

The months passed on in a similar fashion as those first few weeks, add or subtract a few details.

Dream about the Brad-who-accepts-us-for-who-we-are.

Fool around with the Brad-who-does-and-can-not.

Spend a week pining after the Brad-who-ignores-me-with-paranoid-fervor.

Repeat.

My main salvation from this inevitable course of events is on the Saturday nights, when the gang and I put on our Rocky Horror Picture Show Live. I, of course, play Franken-furter, and it is glorious. I mean, I get to prance around in a corset, black Speedo, fishnet tights and heavy make-up, lip-syncing to one of the best movie soundtracks ever written in front of an enthralled audience. It never gets old.

However, something out of the standard routine happened during on of the football games. I was shouting out fanatic encouragement to Brad, who happens to be our star quarterback, when I noticed the kid who laughed so hard during my Callahan impersonation sitting on the bleachers across from Sam and I. He was shifting nervously in his seat, throwing glances in my direction. I threw out the possibility of him having a boy crush on me (I blocked Sam from view, who was sitting on my other side, so the usual infatuation with her wasn't a possibility) and went with the notion that he might just be quite shy. Now that I think about it, I hadn't ever seen him hanging out with anyone. Surprisingly, he initiated conversation.

"Hi Patrick", he acknowledged me after a while of building up the confidence.

"Hey, you're in my shop class!", I replied. I was feeling pretty good watching Brad win the game, and I felt like this kid really wanted someone to talk to him. Plus, I was pretty pleased he hadn't addressed me as "Nothing". In middle school, some kids kept calling me Patty, so I told them to call me Patrick, or nothing at all. Naturally, I've been known as "Nothing" by everyone ever since.

"I'm Charlie", he answered in a voice that tried to be confident.

"And this is Sam", I said, leaning back so Charlie could see who I was pointing at. Sam waved and him and said hello before we asked him to sit with us. He agreed and I absorbed myself in the game and Brad's every movement again. I explained the details of the game, while Charlie listened intently. I felt an appreciation towards this strange, quiet boy who listened like I was telling a favorite story instead of a detailed football play-by-play analysis, so I invited him to come to the Big Boy with us after the game. He looked at me like I was a saint, or maybe an alien saint, and then agreed to come with us.

We all piled into Sam's pick-up truck with Charlie in the middle. I noticed the way Charlie would glance at Sam out of the corner of his eye, smiling faintly. I realized that he, like most any boy who had sat next to Sam for more than three minutes, was becoming quite smitten with her. This was something I would have to continue to observe. Sam attracted more guys than was for her own good, and most of them left her even further down in the dark hole she dug a little deeper every time she hooked up with another guy. So far Charlie didn't seem like one of these guys, but you never know. Sam is the closest friend I've ever had, and she is dearer to me than I could ever say. It has always been Sam who has helped me put myself back together every time things with Brad get to be to much for me to handle on my own. Which is often. She accepts me for who I am, and loves me for it, which never ceases to amaze me. So I have always tried to protect Sam from all of the guys that surround her, but I haven't really been able to do anything useful. Eventually, I just dropped back to comments like, "You deserve better". I hope that she'll believe me one day.

When we got to the Big Boy, we sat down at a booth across from the entrance; Sam and I together and Charlie on the other side of the table. We were both curious about this new friend of ours, and asked lots of questions, which Charlie answered honestly. He told us he was 15, and his Aunt Helen told him he should be a writer one day, but he didn't know what he would write about. I smiled and said, "Write about us. You can call it "the Slut and the Falcon", and we all started laughing. Sam then asked what his favorite band was, and he said the Smiths, which got the two of them talking. I decided then and there that Charlie was a good guy, if a bit awkward and quiet.

I let Sam carry the rest of the conversation about the books he'd read and such, partly because I decided I wouldn't mind it if someone like Charlie asked Sam out, and partly because I noticed Brad coming in with a few of his team mates. Brad directed them to a booth in eyesight of me, and we would occasionally glance over at each other and smile. This is as close to a date as I get with someone who is terrified of his homophobic father and friends finding out he likes to take it in the ass from "Nothing" Patty Patrick. I know its hard to have a homophobic family and that I probably could never understand just how difficult it is for him, but he chooses the friends he has. I used to hang out with the same "popular crowd" before I met Sam and realized I could have friends who liked me anyways and would never give my secret away. I just haven't seemed to be able to get through to Brad that it is possible to have friends who know who you really are and still like you.

I redirected my attention to the conversation between Sam and Charlie when he asked her how long the two of us have been going out. We both burst out laughing, and it was so funny it took a good two minutes to stop.

"What's so funny", he asked with a confused expression.

"We're brother and sister.", I told him through my continued laughter.

"But you don't look alike", he said, and I left it to Sam to explain how our parents had gotten married and how we were actually step-brother and sister. I couldn't help but notice a slight look of relief pass over Charlie's face once he realized Sam was still available. I smiled to myself and we spent the rest of the night talking about our different friends that he should meet and the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which he had never seen before. We invited him to come see it next time and with that, decided it was about time to head home. We drove Charlie home and when we dropped him off he looked at us like we were some sort of imaginary creation of his. I told him we would see him in school on Monday and then we drove off. I felt like I needed to reassure the kid that we liked him and would indeed see him again. He really didn't seem to have any friends other than us, as of that night.

On the way home I asked Sam about Charlie. She gave me her Sam expression, the one where she thinks I'm being very silly.

"Oh please, Patrick. He barely knows me. He's sweet and all, but I doubt he could handle me if he really knew what I was like", she said, eyes focused on the road.

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't care if you were an alien from outer space. Did you see the way he looked at you? Besides, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would shun you for the skeletons in your closet", I retorted.

"Yeah, well, I don't think he's very serious. I don't want to be somebody's crush. Don't you dare give him any encouragement. I rather like him and would hate for things to get weird between us. He probably just doesn't meet many girls. He'll have a new crush next week". And with that the conversation was over, although I felt as though Sam was underestimating our new friend. All the same, I wouldn't go against Sam. I would introduce him to some other girls at the next party we have, and see how that goes. Besides, I had enough to worry about with my own love live, without getting absorbed in that of my sister and a guy I had just gotten to know that night.

Brad and I hadn't gotten a chance to see each other yet this weekend, and I was aching for him to show up at my door. But as we pulled into the empty driveway, I knew that couldn't happen. The only time he came to me was in the middle of parties, where he hoped that no one would notice if we were gone for a little while. Ever since I fell out with his crowd, he'd been coming to my parties, and all of our friends didn't care that I was gay, and didn't pay enough attention to notice that every time I disappeared, Brad would, too.


	3. Chapter 3 The Tunnel

I was in a hurry to upload that last chapter, and didn't properly review it first. I don't have a computer right now, and it was a rare moment when I had a chance to submit before class. Anyways, I edited the grammar mistakes and added some parts. Also, some credit goes to my friend Ha-chan for editing the story thus fore, and giving me some good ideas. :)

Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate it! And without further adieu, chapter 3 (And yes, I don't own the characters. I think I've said this enough now for the rest of the story).

3. The Tunnel

I was standing outside taking a smoke when Sam walked toward me with her arm around Charlie's shoulder.

"Charlie has a Charlie-esque crush on me, Patrick", she told me, smiling while Charlie looked slightly mortified. His eyes were red, and it looked like he had been crying. Poor kid.

"He does, huh?" I tried to sound at least a bit surprised, for his sake.

"I'm trying not to," he offered sheepishly, making us both chuckle. I have to admit, he is pretty cute with the way he talks. Deciding it was time to have a chat with him, I shooed Sam away and took another drag from my cigarette.

I launched into a discussion of what girls look for in men that would have made Mary-Elizabeth go on a feminist rampage if she heard me. Charlie replied to this with noncommittal "Yeah's" that told me he almost understood what I was getting at. I sighed and decided to take another approach.

"You know, there is something you can do, even if you don't get a girlfriend. Have you ever had a dream about a girl before?" I asked him, not really expecting much from someone as dry as Charlie. I was surprised to see him turn pink and stare down at a pebble on the sidewalk like it was the first pebble he'd ever seen.

"Okay, then, I'll take that as a yes. Well, what did you do afterward?" I expanded. He just sort of blinked at me and said, "Was I supposed to do something?" Oh boy. Time to be blunt.

"Charlie, have you ever heard of masturbation?" Blank Stare. The poor boy, how had he survived the first years of his teenage life?

"You know, you can relieve yourself by yourself, with your hand. Do you get it now, or do you want me to continue with the descriptions, because I can," I told him and had to bite back my laughter when I saw realization dawn on his face.

"I hadn't ever considered that before", he told me. He was looking at me strangely, and I almost felt a little bashful, which was a very uncommon state of being for me. Really, how was he so innocent? I've been masturbating since the first time I saw a man naked in the shower when I was eleven.

"Alright, well that's that. Getting a girlfriend would be nice and all I'm sure, but that should help out in the meantime, and involves far less drama". I decided I was ready for this conversation to be over. It was strange considering Charlie's sexual urges, particularly the fact that they may revolve around my sister.

"Thanks, Patrick. I think you might be my best friend, next to Sam", Charlie said in his ever-honest fashion and then left me to finish my cigarette. Charlie did not much like skipping class.

As I watched him go, I wondered a bit at the slight discomfort at my ranking beneath Sam. I was starting to realize how much I enjoyed his company and that I considered him to be a close friend, as well. When had that happened? It had been a while since I found myself naturally slipping into a friendship. I decided to ignore that strange discomfort and be happy with the fact that he considered me a "best friend". I don't think anyone had said that to me since elementary school. I grinned, threw my cigarette butt over the fence and decided I wouldn't be skipping Mr. Callahan's class today.

On the evening of the homecoming dance, I lay on my bed listening to music. I was listening to "Blue Monday" by New Order, and it always made me think of Brad. Sometimes it made me think I should finally break up with him, but any time I even get close to trying, I would realize I just can't. I've gotten too deep and I really don't know what I'd do with myself if I wasn't loving Brad. I can't even remember what it was like before I met him. And besides, he would be coming to the party at Bill's house tonight, and I'd finally get to see him again. So what if I couldn't go with him to the homecoming dance, at least I'd have Sam, who often goes as my date to these things. Who else can dance as well as we can together?

Sam came into my room and heard "Blue Monday" playing. She looked at me and smiled softly, holding a necklace her mother had given her. She walked slowly over to the bed and sat down beside me, handing the necklace over. As she pulled her hair out of the way, I swung the necklace around her neck and closed the clasp.

"You look beautiful, Sam", I said with a smile, putting her hair back in place. She truly did, in her dark strapless dress and soft eye shadow that brought out the green of her eyes. I imagined that tonight would be another tough one for Charlie. Sam turned to hug me, as "Blue Monday" came to an end. It was the last song on the mix tape, so it became quiet.

"How are you doing?" she asked, pulling back from her hug to look me in the eyes. I grinned and flicked her in the forehead. She scrunched up her face and mock glared at me, rubbing the afflicted area.

"Stop worrying, silly, I'm fine. Besides, I get to see him tonight. Plus, it will be Charlie's first party, which will be endlessly entertaining, I'm sure. Now go on, I suppose I should get ready now," I said, patting at her back to make her get up. She ruffled my hair, thanked me for helping with her necklace and then left me to get changed. I don't really like Sam worrying about me. I mean, what's the point of being a funny guy if people worry about you?

I put on my rented tux and added a white scarf. I liked scarfs, and besides, it was cold out there. God knows how Sam and every other girl wore such flimsy dresses near the end of October. I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My curly hair was getting unruly again, and I swiped my long bangs out of my face. I gave a big grin and double thumbs up at my reflection, laughed at myself and then headed downstairs for our paparazzi parents waiting to ambush us as we headed out the door. After several poses at different picturesque places about the house (the staircase at various heights, the fireplace, the doorway) we were finally allowed to leave.

We rumbled up to the school in Sam's pick-up truck and parked in our usual spot. We grinned at each other and then linked arms, heading toward to gymnasium where the dance was held. We entered the throng of scantily clad girls and their tuxedo-ed counterparts, and started to dance to the typical top 40 music the deejay played. Sam rolled her eyes and commented on the atrocious music. I shrugged in response. What could we do? It's high school.

The dance continued like this for a while until a particularly soppy ballad about some girl's broken heart ended and the first notes of "Come on Eileen" started up.

Sam looked at me wide eyed, "Oh my God, they're playing good music!" she said with a gasp.

I looked around me in mock horror and exclaimed, "Holy shit, holy shit! They're playing good music! What do we do?"

"The living room routine", she answered matter-of-factly, grabbing my hands in hers.

"The _living room routine_", I replied with glee and we barged our way into the middle of the dance floor.

Clasping hands, we spun in a wide circle while I screamed, "Get out of the waaay! Get out of the waaay!" The song was just starting to pick up as we began the self-dubbed "living room routine", a swing style dance we had been practicing at home when feeling particularly goofy while listening to music. We danced in circles of each other, throwing our arms and legs out wildly in time to the music. Then we came back together and shimmied our shoulders before I swung Sam up in the air and then continued to twirl about. As I spun towards the entrance I spotted Charlie walking towards us like it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He bobbed and stepped to the rhythm of the music, so slow and melodic, it was like a weird dance step of his own.

I grinned and called out his name, Sam following suit when she saw him. I swung my scarf around his neck and shimmied it back and forth, pulling him closer to us. Losing some of his nervousness, he joined in on the dancing and even spun Sam around for a turn. We all held hands and spun in a circle at the end of the song. His hand was warm in mine and with Sam's in my other, I will always remember that moment as one of the happiest in my existence. I was with two of the people I liked the most, and even the pain of seeing Brad dancing with his girlfriend was dulled around the edges.

After the dance died down, we left for the party at Bob's house. In the parking lot, Sam spotted Dave's car, and pointed it out to Charlie. Dave is on the football team, and Charlie had told us a story about him yesterday at the homecoming football game. Apparently his brother had thrown a huge party at his house while their parents were away, and they had told Charlie to stay up in his room. Then Dave and his girlfriend come up totally wasted. Even though they knew Charlie was in there, Dave wouldn't leave. Basically, Dave forced his drunk girlfriend to give him a blow job, and more, but Charlie had closed his eyes by then. Sam and I were both speechless when we heard this. It was hard to think of him witnessing something like that when he was so young. So when Sam pointed out the car, Charlie got a stormy look in his eye, and I thought of a good way to work out his anger. They never did figure out who slashed Dave's tires that night. We were long gone before anyone even noticed.

I decided to drive this time, so Sam could sit in the middle of us. Charlie was still pretty upset, so Sam started looking for some good music in between the commercials on the radio. Then this song we had never heard came on, and we all went quiet. I felt Charlie calm down in that moment, while we all listened to this beautiful song. As we approached the Fort Pitt Tunnel, Sam turned to me with a gleam in her eye.

"No, no, we're not doing it", I said, attempting to sound forceful.

"Oh come on, Patrick, this song is perfect," she said, her eyes begging me to oblige. I caved, and she kissed me on the cheek before climbing out the back window on to the bed of the truck.

"What is she doing?" Charlie asked with alarm evident in his voice.

"Oh, don't worry, she does it all the time," I replied with a grin. Sam shouted at me to turn it up.

"Got it, your highness", I quipped while turning up the dial. I watched Sam start to stand up through the rear-view mirror as we entered the tunnel. Once she was upright, a serene smile graces her lips and she spread her arms out wide, her dress flowing through the wind like ocean waves. Occasionally, when she was feeling upset about something or had gotten a new mix tape, she would ask to go to the "tunnel". There was something liberating about standing in the open air as I drove fast through the tunnel of wind, she said. It felt like she was free and surrounded by all of the wonder of the world.

I glanced over to see Charlie looking up at Sam with a smile on his face, and then he turned his gaze of me, and his smile softened before he looked forward at the city lights through the tunnel opening. Surprised by his expression, I asked, "What is it?"

He looked back toward me with that same beautiful, wonder-filled expression and said, "I feel infinite". I looked at him with wonder, and in the moment, I understood exactly what he meant. I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of my lips and spreading across my entire face before I launched into a full blown laugh, "That's so true". He laughed with me, and as Sam drifted into the background of my mind, we shared a moment that was just us.


	4. Chapter 4

I want to thank everyone for all of their reviews, follows and favorites! It's really a surprise for me, and I'm very happy!

I hope you enjoy the next chapter. ;)

I don't own anything.

4. Our Little Secret

When we got to Bill's I did our secret drum-roll knock and Bill opened the door slightly.

"Patrick known as Patty known as Nothing?" he asked while peering out at us. Good to know who I am.

"Bob", I replied dryly. I noticed Charlie looking at me with his usual thoughtful expression. He seemed to observe people a lot, and sometimes I had the uncanny feeling that he understood me better than I did, and that probably applied to anyone who spent much time around him.

After the hugging was finished, Sam introduced Charlie. Bob immediately hugged him, much to his surprise. I laughed at seeing the expression on his face and patted him on the back before heading in. Sam said that Bob was "baked like a fucking cake" in explanation. We headed down to the basement and I lit a cigarette for Sam and me. The doorbell rang, and I looked expectantly as Bob went to let them in. Just as I hoped, it was Brad. I resisted the urge to walk over to him; Brad didn't like to draw attention to us. Instead I just headed upstairs toward the usual bedroom, flicking a glance towards Brad so he knew where I was going.

Of course, Brad would wait an unnecessary amount of time before following, so I went ahead and made myself comfortable. I loosened my bow tie and leaned back on the bed, perusing the books on the shelf next to the nightstand. After what seemed like an eternity staring blankly at some book on Asian cooking, I finally heard footsteps approaching. Brad opened the door, checked behind him, and then slipped in while the door clicking shut behind him.

Trying to play it cool, I grinned slyly at him. "To what do I owe this honor?" I asked in a sultry tone. Brad made a face at me and then looked behind him at the door.

"Are you sure we're safe here", he asked with a nervous lilt to his voice. My grin faded a little. Always the same questions, the same fear. It wore me down and made it hard to remember that he loved me, too. At least, he had said so once.

"Yes, yes, no one is going to see us," I said while moving to sit up at the edge of the bed with my feet on the ground. Brad sighed and then walked over, standing between my legs.

"I'm sorry, it's just...well, you know my Dad. You know, maybe we shouldn't do this anymore", he said, while looking down at my feet. I hoped the sound of my heart cracking a little further wasn't audible. I raised my hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. He looked into my eyes, and I knew that we weren't over yet. I moved my hand behind his neck, pulling him down to me. I kissed him chastely, and paused to look into his eyes. I watched as desire won over his fear, and he leaned into me, and deepened our kiss. As I ran my hand down from his neck to his stomach, I heard the door swing open.

Startled, Brad pulled away from me and I looked past him to see a stunned Charlie standing in the doorway.

"Oh," he said, and with that, he promptly turned around and shut the door behind him.

"Who was that?" Brad hissed, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"He's a friend of mine, relax. Let me go talk to him," I said in what I hoped sounded like a confident tone of voice. Brad did not look reassured as I followed Charlie into the hallway.

Charlie was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking back at me with a dumbfounded expression as I approached. I put both my hands on both of his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. For some reason, I wasn't scared. Normally I'd be afraid that I was about to lose a friend, but with Charlie, I just had a feeling that it would be okay.

"Brad doesn't want people to know."

"Why?"

"Because he's scared."

"Why?"

That was a strange question to ask. Wasn't it obvious?

"Because he…wait…are you stoned?"

"They said I was downstairs. Sam is making me a milkshake."

At this I couldn't keep my laughter at bay. Here he had just found me making-out with another guy, and not just any guy, but our star quarterback, and he was talking to me about milkshakes. Charlie. Stoned. Well this was something to remember.

"Listen, Charlie. Brad doesn't want people to know. I need you to promise that you won't tell anyone. This will be our little secret. Okay?"

"Our little secret", he confirmed with a nod.

"Okay", I said, and with that I dropped my hands from his shoulder and walked back toward the bedroom. I looked back over my shoulder to see Charlie still in the same position and said, "We'll talk about this later, Charlie".

As I reached the door, Charlie called after me in his best father impersonation, "I look forward to that talk".

I looked back at his mock stern expression and exhaled something that should have been a laugh before disappearing into the room where Brad sat with his hands clasped to his knees, his arms rigid.

I sat down beside him and rubbed his arm. He didn't loosen it.

"I told you to relax. That was Charlie, and he's a really good friend of mine. We can trust him," I told him. Brad refused to look at me, so I pulled his chin to face me. His eyes burned into mine, and I knew that he would spend the rest of the night in a fearful paranoia. There would be no more kisses tonight. Or anything else, for that matter. Knowing that there was nothing else I could say to him, and that anymore physical contact would just make him freeze up more, I dropped my hand from his chin with a sigh.

Standing up with all of the energy of an eighty year old man, I left Brad to his thoughts. If I knew him at all, it would take him another hour to have the confidence to come back downstairs, chat enough to sound normal and then take his leave. He would not so much as look at me for the rest of the night. I could curse his tyrannical, violent father into the grave at this very moment. He's the one who's made Brad this way.

I headed downstairs to the basement, and ran into Sam, who was standing with her arms crossed, her drink forgotten on the pool table beside her, staring with a troubled expression toward where Charlie sat at the fireplace with Mary Elizabeth and Alice. At first I entertained the thought that she might be jealous at the attention he was giving the girls, but on further inspection knew that it was something more serious. I tapped her shoulder and quirked my eyebrow to ask what was up.

Sam lifted her head and I lowered my ear.

"Charlie just told me that his best friend shot himself last year. I don't think he has any other friends," she whispered furtively.

My mind ground to a stop for a moment, and when I could regain function of my senses, I looked over Sam's shoulder at Charlie. He was nestled between the girls, nursing his milkshake. And in that moment I felt like I could finally understand a small portion of his character. Patting Sam's shoulder, I walked toward him to the center of the room, and held up my glass. The group went quiet and looked toward me expectantly.

"A toast, to Charlie," I proclaimed, holding my glass higher. Charlie looked up at me, perplexed.

"I didn't know I did anything," he questioned. All eyes were on him, and I could see him growing uncomfortable. I walked over and knelt before him, keeping eye contact.

"You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand. You're a wallflower, Charlie," I said quietly, but loud enough for everyone in the silent room to hear.

I saw emotion well in his eyes, and he said in a broken, tired voice, "I didn't think anyone ever noticed me".

I stood back up, holding back the wave of sorrow that hit me as I looked in to his eyes that seemed like they held all of the sorrows of the world and responded, "Well we didn't know there was anyone else cool to meet. Now we know we were wrong". A loving smile crept on to my face as I held his gaze.

I paused, getting a grip of myself, and then repeated, "To Charlie". Everyone responded in like, and took a drink. And as a tear fell out of both of his eyes, Charlie smiled the wrinkle-crinkling kind of smile, and it was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.


	5. Chapter 5 Rocky Horror

Whee! I think this is my favorite chapter so far. At least, it was really fun to write. :D

Thank you so much for all of the reviews! They're so sweet. _

Oh, and this time I can add to the "I don't own" ramble. I don't own "Perks" OR "Rocky Horror" or its songs. Good to mix it up sometimes.

5. Rocky Horror

At school the following Monday, Charlie and I had our "Big Talk". On bated breath, I told him the whole sordid affair between Brad and me. If I was going to call him my best friend, he needed to know. I felt like I could trust him.

I explained how we had met at a party, and shared stolen kisses at every party following. I told him about Brad's dad, and how Brad started getting drunk and high everyday just to get by. I explained how Brad was in denial about his sexuality, but it had gotten better since he'd gotten help with the drug and alcohol problem and we started "dating" secretly. But that he was still in denial.

Charlie listened intently to the whole two years' worth of history, and never interrupted me. When I was finally finished, we just sat there for a moment, before Charlie spoke. I realized that, as much as I trusted him, I was still anxious to hear his reply. Would he still want to be as close to me now that he knew the truth about me? I tried to bat that doubt away, but it persisted.

"Isn't it hard…loving someone who needs to pretend they don't love you? Aren't you sad that you have to keep it a secret?" he asked, with this look on his face that said he was worried for me. Not scared, not disgusted; just worried for a friend in a rough relationship. My doubt faded and I smiled at him.

"It's hard, but I can't really help it. I love him, and I can't leave him. I keep hoping that one day…well, one day we'll just move far away from his Dad and supposed friends, and we'll be happy together. And anyways, I'm not sad anymore. At least he doesn't have to get drunk or stoned to make love". God, I was starting to sound sappy and pitiful, to boot. I didn't really talk that seriously to people very often, and it felt strange and awkward. I kept waiting for the laughter, but I knew Charlie would never do that. He returned to being quiet, a conflicted expression on his face.

"You're always smiling, and making people laugh. I don't know how you always keep that up when you're going through something like this. Sometimes I think that you aren't really laughing when you're making jokes. I think I can understand why now," he observed. I stopped breathing at some point during this revelation in to my character, and had to tell myself to take a breath. I let out a feeble laugh, unable to reply. Just how much had he been watching me? That familiar feeling of him knowing me better than myself returned, and I felt a small knot grow in my stomach. Charlie noticed my strained expression, and reached out for my hands. I felt a slight self-consciousness in the back of my mind over how clammy my hands had become during our conversation. He took them into his, clammy or otherwise, and smiled. I forgot to breathe again.

"I think I can understand how you feel. You can't help who you love, can you," He commented sagely. I agreed, wondering if it was Sam who he was talking about. I pulled my hands out of his with an unintentional jerk to my movements and fumbled for a cigarette out of the pack in my pocket. I lit it up, staring off into the distance. I hadn't talked about this with anyone other than Sam, and I wasn't sure if I felt liberated or uncomfortable. Charlie seemed to sense my mood, so he stood up and made to leave.

"Charlie?"

He turned to look back at me.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for understanding. You don't know what it means to me".

"No. I think I do."

And with that enigmatic reply, he returned to the school building.

It was the night of Rocky Horror, and I was in the dressing room preparing. I was particularly excited about this show, because both Brad and Charlie would be in attendance. Brad had decided that he could probably come, because nobody from his crowd would ever come to something as blatantly freakish as the Rocky Horror Live Show. Charlie came because he was really curious about what the show was about. He would be in for a surprise. I couldn't wait to see their faces when they saw us.

Being Halloween, everyone in the audience was dressed in their best Rocky Horror finery. A few exceptional Rocky impersonators had already caught my eye when we walked past the line waiting to enter. I spotted our own Rocky enter the dressing room through the mirror I was using to put on my vibrant turquoise eye shadow. I watched cynically as Sam (our Janet) leaped off the dressing table she had been perched on and skip over to give him a kiss.

This was an unfortunate development as far as I was concerned, although one not entirely unpredictable. Craig just didn't sit well with me as good boyfriend material, but try convincing Sam of that. She's the most stubborn when "in love". The guy was a great artist, sure, but a real pompous dick most of the time. I don't see what Sam sees in these guys. Not to mention what this new relationship must be doing to Charlie. He had found out about it at one of our parties, and I had decided it my responsibility to keep him company while the two danced, Sam mooning after Craig with large, love-struck eyes.

"Why do you think Sam likes Craig?" Charlie asked with a dejected tone as we sat on the couch, Charlie drinking his first beer. I paused to think, and finding nothing particularly good to say, resorted to physical appeal.

"He's cut and hunky?" I said with a questioning upraised tone. Charlie looked down at his own slender frame and just nodded. Letting out a sigh, he took a sip of beer, and then choked on it, wincing at the taste. He held up the glass, looked at it, then let out a noncommittal grunt and took another sip. I held back a smile at this behavior, figuring Charlie didn't need to be ridiculed right now, no matter the good intention. I wanted to tell him that he didn't need to be cut and hunky to be a much better choice, even in physical appearance, in my opinion, but decided not to complicate things. I just patted him on the back with a sigh.

The guy had shit luck.

Coming out of my reverie, I added another thick layer of mascara and decided I was ready. I laughed at my heavily blushed and powdered face. I made a pretty good Frank 'N Furter, and it always amused me to see that face staring back at me in the mirror.

"Alright, let's give these guys our best show yet," I declared as I swiveled around and stood up. Mary Elizabeth smirked and Alice, Sam and Craig all gave a cheer. Well, Craig tried. He's not the most exuberant of people but he pretends, unlike Mary Elizabeth.

We came out on to the stage to tumultuous applause, cat whistles and cheers. We inflicted our good-humored torture on the show's "virgins", including one slightly awkward Charlie. I gave him an especially hard time, but he was a good sport. It made up for Brad pretending he wasn't a "virgin"- no one called him on it. The movie started up, and we assumed our roles.

Towards the end of the show, during my favorite song of the movie, I started to head down off the stage.

Whatever happened to Fay Wray?

That delicate satin draped frame

As it clung to her thigh, how I started to cry

I slowly ran my hands up my thighs to my stomach, throwing my head back dramatically.

Cause I wanted to be dressed just the same

I sashayed down the stairs, and spotting Charlie in the front row, felt my lips quirk up in a wicked grin. I ambled over to him and threw myself into his lap, bridal style. He tensed beneath me and scrambled to get hold of me with his arms, subsequently pressing me closer to his chest. His eyes were wide, his attention rapt.

Give yourself over to ultimate pleasure

As I lip-synched the words I brought my lips close to his and made a biting motion with my mouth. He grinned helplessly and looked away. I dragged his face back toward mine, wiggling my fishnet clad, stiletto-heeled legs back and forth. The girl sitting on the side of my legs giggled loud enough to be heard over the roar of the audience.

Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh

Charlie's earlier embarrassed expression slid into something less readable. He squirmed in his seat, but kept his arms wrapped around me, so I followed suit and wrapped mine around his neck languidly. I would ignore the change in his expression for now. I was having too much fun.

Erotic nightmares beyond any measure

I released myself from his hold, and stood up with my back to him. Both girls on either side of Charlie were now giggling uncontrollably as I shook my ass in his face.

Can't you just see it? Whoa ho ho!

Don't dream it, be it.

Don't dream it, be it.

I decided Charlie had had enough, so with one impish backward glance, I headed back to the stage. He still wore that bewildered expression with a smile that looked like it forgot it was still there, his arms frozen as if he still held me. Maybe it was culture shock. Queer culture shock. I don't imagine many transvestites had sat on his lap before. I rejoined the rest of the crew to their chorus of "don't dream it, be it" to finish the show in the relative confines of the stage.

When the show ended and we had all changed into our normal clothes, Brad found me in the dressing room, where we had all, including Charlie, gathered. I jumped when I saw him; somehow I had forgotten he had come during the course of the show.

"You were awesome. I can't believe you did that to Charlie. I was sitting right behind him. He practically fainted," He murmured to me. I blinked twice. How had I not seen him when he was so close to me? I blushed slightly in both confusion and a slight amount of pride at his compliment.

"I'm awesome all the time. You should come more often. Maybe I'll sit in your lap next show," I purred, trying to recover my senses. Brad shifted his eyes to check that no one was near.

"I'll stick with observing, thanks. I gotta go now," he said tensely. Apparently I couldn't even imply physical contact when part of a show. Brad's worries didn't stop him from checking me out one more time on the way out, so I decided to be content with that.

I looked over at Charlie, who still looked a bit dazed. I walked over and threw my arm over his shoulder. He jumped at my touch, but quickly recovered and smiled up at me. I felt a small pang of hurt. Was he scared of me touching him now?

"You were right, it was an awesome show," He told me, still grinning loosely, but his eyes had drifted toward the ground.

"Hey man, you aren't upset about what happened, are you? I thought it would be funny. We usually mess with the audience..." I drifted off.

"No, No! It was funny. I promise. I just...well...I don't know really. I promise I'm fine," He reassured me, with a slight panic to his voice. I settled for that, and with a nod, turned around to grab my bag. He grabbed my arm, and startled, I turned around. He dropped it hastily, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Really...I'm fine. You're my best friend Patrick. You couldn't weird me out," he told me and my heart did a little somersault. We both smiled genuine smiles, and then laughed to break the awkward silence. Grabbing my bag I rejoined the group and the general conversation.

Charlie called me his best friend. Not his second-to-Sam best friend, but his_ best_ best friend. And I was oddly pleased by that fact.


	6. Status Update

Unfortunately, I feel as though I must let everyone who follows this story know it might be some time longer before I can update.

I'm taking 19 s.h. and working, and there's this thesis paper that follows me around like my own personal one-ton weight hanging over my head...

I'm pretty sad about it, but anything I write now just won't be near the quality I hope to put into the rest of this story, and to be frank I'm too burned out to feel at all creative.

I'm sorry to leave you guys hanging when things have barely started to develop!

I can promise that once May hits, chapters will be arriving in quick succession!

Sorry again.

Don't hate me! I'm sure there are more things to read in the meantime, but all the same don't forget about me!


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